


Reunited

by esmeraldablazingsky



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, Hurt Steve Rogers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Civil War, STEVE IS JUST SO GODDAMN LONELY, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, This is short I'm sorry but oh well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-13
Packaged: 2018-09-08 06:07:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8833351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esmeraldablazingsky/pseuds/esmeraldablazingsky
Summary: Bucky wakes up in Wakanda ten months after he's first put back into cryo. 
Steve hasn't been doing too well while he's been gone.





	

Steve insists on being there when T’Challa opens Bucky’s cryochamber for the first time. It’s March, and after around ten months, Steve’s heart is in his throat at the thought of seeing Bucky again- really seeing him, not just watching through a haze of memories and frosted glass. 

“Are you sure you want to watch?” asks T’Challa gently, and he means well, but Steve can’t help but snap at him. 

“‘Course I’m sure,” he says tersely, “I want to be there for him.” T’Challa nods and says nothing more as the ice melts from the inside of the cryo chamber. Steve takes a deep breath and tries to fight down the pool of nervous energy inside his chest- tries to master his breathing, his heartbeat, his expression. He’s good at it- people in this new century can’t tell the difference between Captain America and Steve Rogers, and as convenient as that might be at some points, at times it just gets tiring. 

The cryochamber hisses open and Bucky blinks his eyes open, looking sleepy and soft and perfect in the bright lights that dance in his hair and over his skin. That look fades in moments as Bucky snaps into awareness, his breath hitching slightly as his body tenses and his gaze flickers over the room. Steve’s heart hurts to see him this way, frightened and wary and alone, and so he speaks. 

“Buck?” Steve says softly. T’Challa moves away to start properly shutting down the cryochamber and Steve is rooted to the spot, further words dying on his tongue as Bucky turns his head to face him. 

“Steve,” says Bucky, his eyes lighting up. He smiles, and it makes Steve feel warmer inside than he has since Bucky first went into cryo. Steve crosses the room and undoes the strap across Bucky’s chest- it’s not difficult, but Bucky’s a little dazed and missing an arm, and anyway, it’s the least Steve can do. He offers his shoulder for Bucky to lean on, and Bucky takes it, staggering slightly as his feet hit the floor. 

“What’s goin’ on?” asks Bucky, his voice slightly hoarse from disuse. “Didja find a solution for… this?” He gestures vaguely at his head, and Steve grimaces slightly.  


“No,” he admits. “But- but it’s your birthday.” Bucky blinks and then gives Steve’s shoulders a light squeeze with his good arm. 

“Aww, Stevie,” he says, “you woke me up for my birthday? That’s sweet of you.” Steve smiles and glances over at T’Challa, who gives them the all-clear to leave. 

“I can show you where I’ve been staying,” offers Steve. 

“Alright,” agrees Bucky, nodding. “It’s been… what, ten months? Are the others here?” 

“Yeah, about ten months,” says Steve. “Sam, Scott, Clint, and Wanda are here, ‘cause they don’t really have anywhere else to go where they wouldn’t be hunted.” 

“Oh. But- can I just catch up with you first?” asks Bucky, and Steve nods quickly. 

“Yeah, Buck, ‘course. Alright, here we are.” Steve shoulders open the door to his quarters and the first thing Bucky notices is how goddamn empty his rooms are.  
Steve, who’s always had an artist’s eye and a talent for decorating even with the cheapest materials, shouldn’t be living in a space that still smells like a hospital after ten months. Ten months, and Steve hasn’t made this space his own. It’s wrong, somehow. Steve notices Bucky’s hesitation and blushes, shifts his weight uncomfortably. 

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “I didn’t have much time for home decorating.” 

“You’ve been here for almost a year, Steve,” says Bucky, giving Steve a skeptical glance. “If you haven’t been decorating, what’ve you been doing with all this time?”

Steve shrugs. 

“Not much,” he hedges, and okay, that’s it. Bucky takes his arm from around Steve’s shoulders, a pang in his chest from the flinch it causes, and puts his hand on Steve’s jaw, forces him to meet Bucky’s eyes. 

“Steve, what have you really been doing?” he asks, concern adding an edge to his voice that makes Steve go rigid against Bucky’s hand. 

“There really isn’t anything to do when you’re… gone,” Steve admits, trying halfheartedly for another shrug. With a sense of cold dread building in the pit of his stomach, Bucky does the math in his head- four years from Steve’s defrosting to Bucky’s return, two years from then to the Civil War, ten months with Bucky in cryo. Steve had been alone for almost seven years, in the future, with nobody but maybe Natasha and Sam who had had even a passing acquaintance with the real Steve Rogers. 

Shit. 

“You were awake for years before you knew I was alive, and now you can’t live without me?” asks Bucky, horrified. “Jesus, Stevie.”

“It was okay,” says Steve, trying to shrug it off, putting on his Captain America half-smile, the one that Bucky knows is fake from a million miles away. “But then you came back, and you left again, and you came back, and left again, and it got… worse.” 

“I didn’t know,” whispers Bucky, letting out a breath and keeping his hand pressed against Steve’s cheek. And he hadn’t- through it all, the torture and the fighting and the pain, he had never stopped to wonder if Steve was hurting, and that realization hits Bucky in the face like a ton of bricks. 

“‘S alright,” mumbles Steve, but he leans into Bucky’s touch like he needs it to survive, and maybe, maybe that’s closer to the truth than Bucky had ever guessed. 

“Hey- Steve, look at me, huh?” says Bucky, nudging Steve lightly. “I know it’s hard, waking up in a place you don’t know. You’re allowed to not be okay, Stevie.” Steve sniffs and scrubs a hand violently over his face, fighting back tears. 

“It’s not- it’s not- It’s nothing, Buck!” he snaps. “Sure, I woke up in a different century where everyone I ever knew was fucking dead or dying, and it sucks, but maybe if I hadn’t been so stupid, you wouldn’t- wouldn’t need to go into cryo, maybe you would’ve come back from the war, and none of this would’ve- I’m so stupid, Buck, this is my fault-” Steve’s voice cracks and his body starts to shake with suppressed sobs, and Bucky pulls him close, arm wrapped around Steve’s waist. 

“Hey now,” says Bucky softly, “it’s not your fault. There’s nothing you could’a done better, okay, Stevie? And I’m sorry I left you here on your own, I should’ve thought about what it would do to you. I’m not going to leave you again, okay?” 

“You are,” says Steve flatly, keeping his hands pressed to his sides like he can lessen the pain by keeping Bucky at arm’s length. “You’re going back into cryo.” 

Cryo. Fucking cryo. Bucky bites his lip, weighing the options, and realizes there was really only one option in the first place. 

“I’m not going back if you have to deal with this on your own without me,” says Bucky, rubbing his hand up and down Steve’s back. 

“I don’t wanna make you feel unsafe just ‘cause I can’t keep it together,” says Steve into Bucky’s shoulder, stubborn as always. 

“Shh,” Bucky reassures him. “Don’t worry too much about it, okay, Stevie? I know T’Challa is more than capable of making sure nobody finds those goddamn words ever again. God, I don’t know why I left you in the first place.” Steve takes a deep, shuddering breath and his arms wrap tightly around Bucky’s waist, holding him close and tight, and Bucky lets him, even though he’ll probably have bruises on his hips later. It’s worth it. 

“Thank you, Buck,” whispers Steve, and he’s suddenly dead weight in Bucky’s arms, finally free from one of the many burdens on his shoulders but still so, so exhausted. 

Bucky doesn’t mind- he just eases them both down to the floor and rocks Steve back and forth, presses feather-light kisses from Steve’s neck to his fluffy blonde hair and back again. 

“I love you, Stevie,” he says, pressing his nose against Steve’s cheek and breathing in the smell of him- warmth and love and home. “I ain’t ever leaving you again, got it?” 

“Yeah,” says Steve. “I love you too, ya big jerk.” Bucky grins. 

“Punk.”

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this was my first posted fic and it's short and I'm nervous but anyway, I hope you liked it!!
> 
> Based on an RP that happened at an ungodly hour of the night.
> 
> esmeraldablazingsky on tumblr if you want to yell at me about these nerds btw.


End file.
